


Had No One There to Watch Him Cry

by TheVagabondBoy



Series: Despicable [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: -Ish, Alternate Universe - Space, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Space Pirates, Space Stations, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 06:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVagabondBoy/pseuds/TheVagabondBoy
Summary: Steve and Bucky finally make it to Avenger Station, and deliver Steve to hisfriends.Now Bucky just had to get out of there without getting dragged into more trouble.Then again, he's never been very good at avoiding trouble, has he?





	Had No One There to Watch Him Cry

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd
> 
> we die like me

The journey to Avenger Station would take a day, even with Bucky pushing the FTL engines to their limits. He kept an eye on the video feed from the med bay. He knew the guy was still too weak to cause any real trouble, but better safe than sorry. He wanted to get this over with, and Steve out of his hair and _off his ship._

Bucky didn't like having people on his ship. It was...intrusive. They came in and stomped all over his ship like they had _the right_ to be there, when he had worked his ass off to buy Alpine off the disassembly line. He’d given _everything_ to get a ship of his own and to get off the shithole planet he started out on.

He didn’t want _anyone_ on his ship, because he _knew_ what people were like. People only took. They didn’t care who they took from, they just _took_ because they could. Bucky knew that better than most. That was _always_ how it worked on his planet. There, it was kill or be killed; scrap or be scrapped.

_Take from others to survive, and guard what you have with your life._

But Bucky had decided as soon as he got off that planet, that he wouldn’t let it happen again. Wouldn’t let anyone take _anything_ from him again.

Alpine was _his._ Everything on the Alpine was _his._

He had worked for _everything_ he had here. No one was going to take it from him. _Least of all_ a skinny runt like _Steve._

Thankfully, Steve didn’t seem to be wanting to cause any trouble. He just stayed in bed, curled up and trying to stay warm, slowly eating the ration and drinking the water he’d been given. He seemed to understand that there really wasn’t much he could do in his state.

The ship rattled and jerked as it dropped out of FTL. Bucky chuckled, watching Steve almost jump out of his skin with shock.

Bucky set his screwdriver aside, then carefully shut the opened panels of his left arm. He clenched his cybernetic hand into a fist, then flexed his fingers, clenched again, then rolled his shoulder, and folded and unfolded his elbow. Full range of movement.

He got up. He put of his jacket and his glove, placed his pistol in the holster on his hip, stuffed his communicator and his ID chip and his credit chip in his pocket.

Time to see some friends about a reward, then.

*

“Where do we go, Stevie-boy?” Bucky asked dryly.

The guy looked real squirrelly for about a second. “Um, Club Malibu. Th- There’ll be bouncers at the door, but tell ‘em you w-wanna see the manager. And Steve sent you.”

“Hm. _Sure,”_ Bucky said, just as dryly. “And if I end up in jail ‘cause’a you, I’ll beat ya to death.”

At that, Steve’s eyes widened a little. “Okay. Fair enough. I guess.”

“Get in the box.”

He sure tried, at least. He tried to climb into the cart, but again, Bucky had to all but lift him into it. Hm, got halfway, anyway. Progress, Bucky supposed. _Recovery._

Stay laid down as flat as he could in the drawer, which Bucky shut, sliding back in to hide under the cart. It removed the carts hover function, put it back on wheels, but it was useful if you had something to hide. The lead-lining made sure scanners could see what was in the box; it was made up so they’d only read it as a broken, rusted out engine.

He knocked on the drawer. “You good in there?”

_“Uh, lil’ claustrophobic, but, um, yeah, it’s fine.”_

Alright, then.

He cued the hatch to open, and it did, letting them out onto the dock-pad of Avenger Station. Security was there to meet them. Two men, SHIELD uniforms, heavy weapons, portable scanners.

“ID, please,” one of them, the uglier one, brusque as all SHIELD meatheads were. “We’re gonna have to scan the cart.”

“Sure thing, officers,” Bucky replied.

He pulled out his ID chip, pressing his thumb to the scanner to let it read his fingerprint. His ID information appeared as a hologram above the chip. The ugly meathead got to scanning the cart, while the _slightly_ less ugly one typed Bucky’s ID number into his tablet to double-check him in the database (and check his license to carry a firearm).

Bucky acted as casual as he always did.

“You’re clear, sir,” the ugly one said, now more monotone than anything. _Bored._ “Welcome to Avenger Station. Have a pleasant stay.”

Bucky stuffed his ID back in his pocket and started moving again.

The Station was as busy as ever. Still smelled like piss and garbage too. It was a system-central commerce hub. Smack-dab in the middle between six different planetary systems, which were all kept close together by each others combined gravitational pull. Forty planets in total, with Avenger Station as their nerve center. Everything on those planets moved through there. Hell, most of the galaxy moved through there. So yeah, it was a little crowded.

Bucky found his way to Club Malibu, though. Fourth arm, sixth level, the Neon Six street; exactly where all the big clubs wanted to be. Big bank to be made there.

Two bouncers at the door, and a line down and around the corner. Seemed like a popular spot. _And_ Steve's word rang true, so far.

Bucky passed the line, approaching the bouncers directly.

"Back of the line, sir," one said. "And you can't bring the crate in the club. Or the gun."

"Relax, boys," Bucky told them. "Gift for the manager. Courtesy of Steve Rogers."

The other bouncer opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself, a hand to his earpiece. The manager was watching.

"The lady'll take ya to the boss," the second bouncer said finally as he stepped aside.

Bucky passed through.

The club was dim and loud, and smelled like alcohol and sweat. It was packed to the brim with people. A pretty redheaded woman had pushed through the crowd to meet him, nonetheless. She greeted him with stone-cold eyes and said nothing, only waving at him to follow. So follow, he did. They pushed through the mass of people to the far end of the club, where another pair of bouncers guarded another door. They didn’t hesitate to step aside for the woman, even holding the door for Bucky.

It lead into a backroom, to something that was a mix of an office and a VIP area. Bucky recognized the man sitting on the sprawling leather couch along the wall, and the man watched him with sharp eyes, sipping his drink. A man and a woman sat at the bar, another man behind it. The redhead who had escorted Bucky strode across the room to the bar, gladly accepting the drink the bartender offered her.

_“So,”_ the man on the couch said. “I’m guessing you know who I am.”

Bucky leaned on the cart. “Sure. You’re a pompous prick.”

Even the man chuckled at that.

“Tony Stark,” Bucky said then. “You’re…one rich guy or another. I don’t really give a shit.”

Stark hummed. “Then why are you here?”

“Steve asked me to come.”

“Really?” Stark questioned, the suspicion obvious in both his voice and his eyes. “Because Steve went missing about two weeks ago. So _how come_ he was able to ask you to come here, when no one’s been able to find him or contact him in two weeks?”

Bucky tucked his foot up under the cart, finding the hidden latch which unsealed the box. The box slid open.

Steve sat up, almost gasping for air, obviously relieved to finally get out.

It put the whole room in an uproar. Everyone flocked to the crate to get close to Steve. Bucky rolled his eyes and got out of their way. He shuffled over to the bar to get a drink and wait for things to calm the hell down.

They fussed over him for a while. Someone carried him and laid him out on the couch. Everyone talked over each other, asking him questions about what had happened. Bucky poured himself a glass of one of the most expensive whiskeys he could find and made sure to savor it.

“What happened, Rogers?” someone asked again, when things had finally settled down and everyone had taken a seat on the couch around Steve. “Did this guy do somethin’ to ya?”

“No, no,” Steve told them. “H-He saved me. Th-They- It was-”

_“Pierce,”_ Bucky said a little more clearly, which made them all look up at him instead. “He said it was Pierce. From SHIELD.”

_“What?”_ one of the men, not Stark or Steve, said. “Pierce really did this? He’d go that far?”

Bucky shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. Gimme the reward I was promised and I’ll be on my way.”

Stark let out a deep sigh. He got up off the couch, pulling something out of his pocket. He crossed the room with rapid strides. Bucky pulled out his credit chip. They synced their chips up, and Bucky watched five-hundred thousand credits roll into his account.

At that, he set down his drink and smiled.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya,” he said. “See y’all ‘round, I guess.”

He grabbed the cart and headed for the door.

_“Wait!”_

Goddammit…

_“What,_ Rogers?” Bucky asked plainly. “Got shit to do, y’know.”

“You’re a smuggler, right?"

A scoff escaped Bucky unbidden. He crossed his arms tightly, an eyebrow raised, as he smirked.

“So what if I am?” he questioned, the challenge obvious. “I reckon that if I _were_ a _smuggler,_ my smugglin’ capabilities is the only reason you ain’t rottin’ in a cell at SHIELD HQ.”

They were all glaring at him something fierce.

Except Steve. Steve’s eyes were big and wide with something akin to hope.

But Stark wasn’t glaring either. No, he was focused on his communicator, eyes scanning over rows upon rows of information displayed on the small, rectangular pane of glass.

“Steve, what are you thinking?” one of the women asked, looking to the blond man again. _“A smuggler?_ Why would we need a smuggler?”

“Think about it!” Steve insisted. “If he could smuggle me in and get me in front of Fury, our problems would be solved! Fury’s the _real_ powerhouse in SHIELD! Pierce is just a figure-head!”

The others around him hummed and hawed at that, debating within themselves.

“Bucky Barnes, born James Buchanan Barnes, to George and Winifred Barnes, on K’Deria 6, orbiting around the star Atavon 271,” Stark began to rattle off. “Bought a Galactic Citizenship eight years ago, registered as a scrapper shortly after, owner of a Class 2 miniature freighter, flight number A1PN3-070, lovingly baptized _the Alpine.”_

Okay, Bucky was done.

He started walking again.

“So I take it you _don’t_ wanna know who owns K’Deria 6 these days?”

That sure made Bucky stop, one hand halfway to doors console.

_Shit._

Shit, shit, shit, _fucking shit!_

“The name. _And_ another half a million.”

Stark scoffed. “Pick one, or get neither.”

“Fine. The name, and you deliver me right to that sorry asshat’s doorstep.”

The other man hummed. “Won’t have to. You’ll know exactly where to find him.”

_“Deal,”_ Bucky said. “Gotta sell this lot off. Back in a couple hours.”

With that, he could finally leave.

He left the room, he left the club, he left the whole damn Neon Six _and_ fourth arm!

The name of the person who owned K’Deria 6… It was- Shit, it was something he’d been trying to find out ever since he left the place. He’d tried and tried and tried everything possible, but to no avail. It didn’t seem like anyone knew.

For a moment, he had even hesitated to think that _Stark_ knew who it was, but it would make sense that he did. All Bucky had been able to find out was that _Howard Stark_ had owned K’Deria 6 around the time Bucky’s parents got there, but sold it soon after. Bucky just hadn’t been able to figure out who he’d sold it to. But Tony Stark was Howard Stark’s son. If _anyone_ knew who Howard sold it to, it would be Tony.

Bucky had to find the person who owned K’Deria 6.

_He had to._

For Becca.


End file.
